2: To keep a promise
by kiku65
Summary: Oh... just read inside, its a long story. OC, so I'm not expecting rave reviews. Or any,really. Now completed.
1. Prologue

Yup, she's back (groans and Star Wars 'noooooo!'s).

Written because I like my OC characters (hey, how can you not like clones?), because the story was there and because I wanted a way to save Ion squad in _Rise of Darth Vader_. And because I started to wonder what would happen to Jenth after Order 66.

A/N- apologies for the excessive swearing, but Mandalorians tend to be a garrulous people on the whole, and clones pick things up from their trainers.

XXXXXXXX

**Prologue.**

**Tipoca City, Kamino sector, year 9, 6 years before the Battle of Geonosis **

"Wondered where you'd got shacked up."

Jango Fett looked down. The speaker barely came up to his ribcage, even in her customary thick boots, and her accent – from Enetir or whatever the place was called – had almost disappeared by now. Before it had been so thick he could only understand one word in three.

"Everyone has to live somewhere."

They were walking above the city's military complex, the walkway extending above training areas, simulated battlefields, dining areas... all a soldier could ask for.

_Apart from_, the speaker thought with disgust, _a home._

She did not show her feelings, but decided to ask a few questions.

"They all yours?"

He nodded. "Every last one."

"Shit. Quite a family."

"They are not family."

"They are. They're Mando..."

"They are not."

"Then they're _Dar'manda_, and that's just... wrong."

"Works for me."

She shut up a moment, before the moot point of her visit decided to make itself heard.

"Why am I here?"

He remained impassive. "There are specialist units being trained. Elite soldiers."

"So?"

"So one of the trainers was killed in an accident. I need someone else."

She stopped dead, right above a dining hall filled with identical soldiers, all in the same uniform. "_Me?_"

"Yes."

She blinked, then seemed to grab one helpful question from the sea surrounding her. "_Why?_"

"You're sneaky."

"Sneaky," she said flatly.

"You evaded me for a month."

"Still got caught."

"I never loose a bounty. But you stayed out of reach a long time."

"These are _soldiers_, not spies."

"You're a good enough soldier."

They carried on walking again, the smaller one digesting this news. But also, deep down, there was a small spark of pride. Jango Fett would not have said she was good if she wasn't, and with Jango Fett 'good' could be taken to mean 'near-invincible'.

They passed near to the end of the transparisteel tunnel, above a firing range. He nodded down.

"That's them."

She looked down. Identical soldiers, all firing at point blank range at plastoid targets that bobbed and weaved like real enemies. She didn't see a single miss.

They all looked the same age as his sister had been when she had packed up and left home, twelve years old. _Jez_. The parting had been messy, and her sister had begged her stay, but always behind her had been her father, not angry but certainly anxious to see the daughter of his wife leave.

_Daughter of his wife_, not _daughter_. He had been a proud man, and she had been a proud girl, only two years older than her half-sister. No, she had made the right choice by leaving. Sometimes she wondered what had happened to them. Jez would be older now... in her mid twenties at least. Did she have a husband, a boyfriend? Unlike the stocky, plain-faced Reuma she had been lighter boned with impish features, quicker to laugh than to shout. Attached at least, then.

She snapped out of the past. "My lot?"

"Yes."

"Bloody hell." She watched them. "They're better than me. _I _can teach_ them _anything?"

"You are more experienced."

"Sneakier."

"Exactly."

She stared down, hands in the pockets of her pilots jacket. "How many?"

"About a hundred left... soon to be ninety-six by the looks of it."

"Left? W–" she looked in his direction and saw a pair of strange looking patrol craft hovering through the range. A group of four clones stopped firing and looked up.

She didn't like their expressions_ at all._

"What's up with _them_?"

"Probably defective." He remained impassive, but she saw a muscle on his jaw twitch. "They'll be taken for reconditioning. Or termination."

"_Termination?_"

"That's the way they deal with defective units, you'll have to get used to it if you..." he stopped and realised he was talking to empty air.

A rapidly disappearing blur was all that was left of his audience.

XXXXXXXX

Reuma out of breath and thoroughly red in the face by the time she reached the entrance to the firing range, but she didn't care. Behind her she could hear a set of heavier footsteps pelting after her, but she had no worries about being caught. Her focus was on the group in front.

A group of curly-haired teenage boys were surrounded by a team of eight Kaminoans, presumably the crew or called by the crew of the patrol craft. One was marching stiff-necked in front of them, holding his chin up defiantly, and she picked him out at once. _Leadership potential. Strong spirit. Let's hope he gets a chance to show it._

Panting, she skidded to a halt. Jango might have said she was sneaky, but there were also times when subtlety was not a strong point of hers, as evidenced by the actions she took in the next – very crowded – few seconds.

It ended up with her being in the middle with the boys, and a pair of Kaminoans staggering backwards away from them.

"You alright?" she muttered in undertone.

One of them –the leader – nodded, pale-faced. "Yes ma'am."

"Right. Now shut up and let me deal with this."

"Yes ma'am."

Jango finally caught up. _Here come the cavalry_.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

_Or not._

"Doin' what's right," she told him levelly.

"You are doing what is _stupid_."

"Often the same thing."

The leader of the Kaminoans – Reuma mentally and irreverently named him Fish Face – demanded to know what was going on. She turned to face him, keeping a careful watch on the others.

"What does it _look_ like?"

He regarded her coldly. _Fish Face. I've faced worse than you._

_Ok, so the worse thing I faced is now pissed off with me and five feet away, but you know..._

"You are interfering with a termination of a defective unit," he told her.

"No? D'ya think?"

She wouldn't have sworn it, but the cough Jango gave sounded oddly like a laugh, but when she looked his face showed no signs of humour. Neither did the Kaminoan.

"Kindly conduct yourself to the visitor area and let us continue."

She tilted her head. "Nope."

"No?"

"Ain't gonna. These are_ my_ boys now." She looked at Jango. "Right?"

"You haven't agreed..." he saw the look on her face. "Yes."

"See? That means _I _decide who gets terminated." She turned back to the Kaminoan. "Not you. What's so bad about 'em anyway?"

"One showed a score of 19/20 in his shooting."

Pause. "That's_ it_?"

"It is enough."

"Not for me."

"Your opinion does not matter here."

"It bloody does. Or I leave. With this lot. And I _know_ you can't find anyone else."

Jango cleared his throat. "How?"

"'Cos no-one in their right mind would have _me_ as a first choice."

He almost smiled. The Kaminoan did not.

"We will find others..."

She shifted weight, easing up her twinned KYD pistols tucked on either hip. "No, someone else might try to. _You _won't."

There was a silence, caused by a lot of people thinking very quickly.

"You had better;" said Jango finally, "take them back into the range. Get them up to scratch."

"Righto." She almost smirked at the Kaminoan, but decided not to push her luck. "C'mon laddies, I've a feeling we'll be needing guns some time soon."

The Kaminoan protested. "She is not suitable..."

"_I_ will decide that." Reuma sped up, reaching out to hold the little leaders hand. She knew that tone of voice. "I say she _is_ suitable. If not, take it out of my pay."

The small hand in her own squeezed tightly. She squeezed back and smiled.

"What's your name, lad?" she asked softly.

"We don't have names, ma'am," he said quietly.

"Well, we can't have that." She thought it over, and shrugged, "What are you good at?"

Another piped up. "He's good on the assault courses. No-one keeps up with us on the nets."

"Who're you?" she tried to ask kindly, but she wasn't very experienced at kindness.

"RC-3221 ma'am," he said, subdued. "I was the one with the bad score."

"Hah, the little rascal? 'Spect you don't have a name either?"

He shook his head.

"Well then..." she thought a moment. "Better be Rascal then, hey?" Or just Ras, maybe."

They had stopped inside the range, but the boys were ignoring the frequent bangs and flashed. They stared, wide-eyed.

"I'm good with technology," one said quickly, as if not daring to hope that this wouldn't fade away. "Sergeant Widinath said no-one could find information better than me."

His partner didn't move, but stood ramrod straight. "I'm just good at fighting, ma'am."

"That's what we're all about, laddie." She stopped, and realised what they were. And grew angry.

Well _stuff_ those shabala fish-faced string-necked freaks! She wouldn't let these kids grow up dead-souled as well as slaves.

He didn't blink. "We?"

"I'll tell you... but first you've gotta have a name."

She looked at the two nameless, and an idea struck.

"You're Trace," she told the little slicer, "If you're so good with datapads... and you can be Ordin," she said as she looked at the small soldier. "That was my cousins' name."

He stared. "Thank you ma'am," he said finally.

The leader didn't say anything, but she could feel his disappointment. Much to her own surprise as well as his, she laughed and drew out a packet of Cardellian mints, proffering one. He took one with surprise.

She always had a few mints handy. She had found it helped block certain smells that soldiers got used to, but never found very pleasent.

"Good on assault courses are you? Better be Climber then, I think."

Taken off-balance, he swallowed the mint hastily and nodded. "Ma'am? You know... back then?"

"Yeah laddie?"_ Hey, I'm getting the hang of this kindness stuff. _

"Thank you," he mumbled. The other chorused their own thanks. "But ma'am? Why?"

She thought it over, feeling the question expand out along the range, through the roof, bigger than the city, or the planet, or maybe even the galaxy itself, until the whole of her life, her existence, seemed to ask the same thing.

_Why?_

She gave him a smile. "Well, I'm your sergeant now, aren't I? And for soldiers, your sergeant are your family..."

She halted at their stares, before she could think of what to say next.

"That means," she said finally, "That you are_ my _family now. And family stick together. We stick up for each other."

Without knowing why, she drew them back into a hug, reminded for one brief moment of another child, years ago, who had been _her_ family.

But not anymore. Now she had brothers, not a sister.

"You're my family," she whispered again, making the promise skin-to-skin and unbreakable. "_My_ family. Whenever you need me, I'll be there."

"I promise."


	2. An unexpected reminder

**1: An unexpected reminder**

_Sarge, if you're out there we could definitely use some help right now._

_-message sent from Murkhana City coordinates, GAR frequency._

"_Under the Empire's New Order, our most cherished beliefs will be safeguarded. We will defend our ideals by force of arms. We will give no ground to our enemies and will stand together against attacks from within or without. Let the enemies of the Empire take heed: those who challenge Imperial resolve will be crushed..." _

Break for applause. Reuma spat, careful to avoid any loose wires.

"_The New Order of peace has triumphed over the shadowy secrecy of shameful magicians. The direction of our course is clear. I will lead the Empire to glories beyond imagining._

_We have been tested, but we have emerged stronger. We move forward as one people: the Imperial citizens of the first Galactic Empire. We will prevail. Ten thousand years of peace begins today._"

The reporter, a pretty human female with dark hair, cut in. "_Emperor Palpatine was true to his word today, with an extra half a million troopers being sent to the most fought over parts of the Outer Rim..."_

Reuma switched off her receiver. The Holonet had been playing that damn speech for almost three weeks now, and frankly she was sick to death of hearing it. Every word for her was like a kick on the face, a reminder that she was going to spend her foreseeable future running away from the very men she had trained. The reminder always made her want to hit something.

A light flashed on her receiver and she pressed the activator button. It was probably another job offer via Aldera's diminutive criminal underground. Most of the others had involved spice of some sort, something she would rather nail her foot to the floor than transport.

The face that appeared above her holocom instantly banished such thoughts.

She listened to the message, mouth gaping wider with each word. Her little lads- her _vode'ika_- had disobeyed a direct command, freed four criminals and were now being held prisoner by their former comrades to await judgement from whatever higher personnel came their way. It was so ludicrous she almost suspected a trap.

On the other hand if it was true she had a good idea of what justice would await them when they were court-martialled. If the Empire even bothered with a court-martial.

Suddenly everything became clear, and she started to set coordinates. She had a _purpose_ now. Her purpose was the poor, doomed bastards of Ion squad.

The underworld could go hang. She had family to look after.

XXXXXXXX

**Murkhana city, one week later**

Captain Climber watched as the _Theta_-class shuttle de-orbited above Murkhana city.

It had been four weeks since Ions squads' insubordination. Four weeks under guard, awaiting judgement. Four weeks to mull over just how deep the crap was that they were in.

He tried to combat the growing feeling of worry in his guy by thinking back the Deko Neimodia. Sarge had seen them off there, giving each clone the usual pat on the back and mint from her seemingly inexhaustible supply hidden in her belt. These were useful as a pick-me-up, but they had another purpose as well.

Whether intended or not, they did a stellar job of blocking out the battlefield smells, and on that occasion they had been put to good use.

The transport hovered above the ground and landed with a crunch. He jerked back into the present.

Climber was ready and willing to take whatever destiny came his way for his actions. He had been trained to accept responsibility for his actions. But that didn't mean he was looking forward to facing the person coming down on that shuttle.

There had been rumours. Lots and lots of rumours. None of them good.

This wasn't going to be pretty.

XXXXXXXX

Climber was mildly worried. His sergeant was scared shitless.

The main reason for her worry was hanging ominously above the planet Murkhana, rather like a Muntro Codru bat above a fish. An _Imperator_-class Star Destroyer. Readouts confirmed it to be the _Exactor_.

The ship in itself wouldn't have caused her undue concern- she had great confidence in her piloting abilities- if it hadn't been for the presence she had felt on the shuttle heading planetside.

For some reason she couldn't understand, it had felt vaguely familiar, but that wasn't the point. The point was that it had stunk of the darkside.

Reuma had never paid much attention to 'light' and 'dark' sides of the Force, figuring that if was there, you should use it. If being angry gave you the edge in battle, fine. If being calm helped sooth an injured mate, that was fine as well. The Jedi had disapproved of the cavalier attitude, but back when they had been around she couldn't have cared less what they thought.

The feel of the presence on that ship was making her seriously reconsider her philosophy.

Easing off slightly, she steered the _Blood Star_ to the western-most edge of the _Exactor_, transmitting as she did so a false transponder code to slow up any pursuit.

The holocom chimed, and she pulled the scarf on her face higher before activating it. An officious-looking face appeared.

"_Hocus Pocus_, this is the Star Destroyer _Exactor_. Maintain position and prepare for boarding."

"Like fuck I will," she muttered under her breath. Out loud- "_Exactor,_ this is _Hocus Pocu_s. My reactor core sprung a leak and I need to land."

There was a pause. "_Hocus Pocus_; our readouts do not confirm your report. Cut your engines or we will open fire."

_Shit. Now what?_ "Your scanners are off, bud. I've got a red-grade emergency in here."

Another pause, this time shorter. "_We_ will decide that, captain. Now stand by for boarding, or prepare to face the fist of the Empire."

Reuma gave up. There was no talking to some people. "_Exactor_, the _Hocus Pocus_ says that your Empire, Emperor and ship can all go fuck themselves. Now stand back or eat ion trail."

With that she accelerated hard, waggling her ship in a mock salute. A few lasers streaked past her cockpit screen, but she ignored them as unimportant. As the Geonosian veterans said, she had bigger bugs to fry.

Grey light washed over her screen as the _Blood Star_ drifted downwards.

XXXXXXXX

Climbers' instincts on his situation had proved to be distressingly correct. It hadn't been pretty at all.

In fact, seeing as he had just lost two brothers, been injured and was now trapped in damp woodlands by his own army, accompanied only by his last remaining squad member and an overheated DC-17, it was hard to see how his situation could get worse. Apart from in a future that was looking alarmingly likely.

"Captain?" It was Ras. "What now?"

_What indeed?_

They surrounded, they were outgunned and they were outnumbered by some of the Empires' finest soldiers. He could think of a few things to do, but none seemed very constructive.

"Captain?"

He watched as one of the shock troopers came forward, still holding his blaster in readiness. Climber knew what was coming next.

_Surrender. Imprisonment. Execution._

He also knew the alternative.

_Refusal. Killing. Death._

He could kill his own brothers, or he could drop his blaster and surrender. In the words of his training sergeant, he could roast or fry.

He looked at Ras.

"You do what you have to, Ras," he said quietly. "Just like we all do."

And he dropped his blaster.

XXXXXXXX

Reuma was starting to think she was swearing more in the last hour than she had in the last year.

There were her lads all right, or at least what she suspected was left of them. Trust Climber to head for woodlands, after all the tales she had told him about her homeworld Ene. Regrettably there was a problem.

About a hundred problems to be exact.

It looked like they were being escorted to a landing area filled with prisoners and clone guards. And someone else. Someone she didn't recognise, but had an annoying feeling she should. Perhaps the same man that had been on the shuttle.

Unnatural coldness washed over her and all doubts fled. It _was _the man on the shuttle. They were in trouble.

She might not know his name, but she could guess at his description.

_A darksider. _

_Roast or fry._

All of this happened in seconds, by the time Reuma had a brainwave the man and most of the clones had noticed the YT-2400 zooming over their heads. This meant she had about five seconds to decide whether to follow through with the spontaneous plan or not.

In actuality she took about two. Reuma never been one for caution.

XXXXXXXX

Climber saw the freighter, and didn't believe it. It was like, when falling into a storm-tossed ocean, seeing a giant lifebelt with a hot drink and blankets hovering in the sky. It was like being put in prison, only to have a door appear with the word 'Freedom' above it.

It was, in other words, the closest thing to a miracle he had ever seen in his thirteen years of life.

For a moment there was complete and utter deadly silence, punctuated by the harsh breathing of the newly christened Lord Vader. Then all hell broke loose.

Blasters roared, prisoners screamed, and Climber punched one of his guards in the solar plexus. Rather neatly, he thought. Ras went one better, elbowing his in the chin and stealing the mans' blaster. The clones then started to run.

The miraculous YT-2400, oblivious to the chaos being unleashed on it, settled itself eight feet off the ground between them and Vader, opening its hatch as it did. To Climber, the scuffed-up ramp and rusty suspension cable might as well have been lit with a golden glow.

Ras leapt first, smacking into the ramp at chest height. The ramp wobbled, tilted, and rolled him inside. Climber fixed his sights, and followed.

And stopped.

And fell.

And landed with a smack, confused until he saw what Vader was doing. The man had extended his right hand in a fist-like gesture, and even as Climber watched it finished its downward drop and hung at the Siths' side.

He'd pulled him down. The bastard had pulled him down.

That was... that was _cheating_.

Climber couldn't help himself. He was appalled at the injustice of it, that some damn Force-user had actually stopped him from escaping with less effort than he would have swatted a bug.

It was _unfair_.

The YT started to move forward, and Climber watched it with resignation. Of course the pilot would leave. He, Climber, was dead meat. There was no point in risking themselves further.

But wait... it was dropping. Why should an escaping ship_ drop _in height? Why wasn't it heading for the freedom of space?

For the second time in less than three minutes, Climber was astonished.

The YT jerked forward, dropped by about three feet and _went backwards_.

Not only that. By luck or design, Vader was behind it.

Climber didn't waste time finding out what would happen next. By the time the Sith Lord had stepped rearward, cursing, he was already running for the ramp, jumping and praying that this time, he made it.

Maybe the Force owed him a favour for those Jedi, because he hit the ramp and scrambled inside without a pause.

They lifted off into the blue.


	3. Three more scum

**2: Three more scum**

_Better luck next time. Pip pip. _

_-Message sent from unknown location to the star destroyer _Exactor

Reuma was happy, amazed, tired and scared out of her mind as she punched the button for hyperspace.

Happy- she had saved her little brothers from horrible deaths, pulled a fast one under the nose of the Empire and lived to tell the tale.

Amazed- she was intact and had gotten away scot-free with her adventure.

Tired- she hadn't slept due to worry for the last week or so, and the adrenaline rush of her adventure was wearing off.

Scared out of her mind- she had reversed her ship over a Sith Lord.

Actually reversed. Over a Sith Lord.

Oh, he was _not_ going to be pleased about that.

XXXXXXXX

Blue hyperspace dawned, and the three misadventurers held a powwow in the ships passenger lounge. The pooled knowledge wasn't looking good.

"The Jedi were framed," Reuma stated bluntly. "This whole fucking war was a set-up to get Palpatine in power. I met a Jedi on Tatooine while I was waiting for the trouble to die down, and he said the same thing. "

They were wise enough not to ask who. "It makes sense," Climber offered. His bandaged leg was propped on the table. "The Order would have objected to a take-over, so the Chancellor would have _had_ to get them out of the way somehow. We were safe bet that way."

"Not so safe as it turns out," she said with a smile.

"Wasn't it a Jedi who made the order for an army, though?" asked Ras.

"Was last I heard," mused Reuma.

"Could have been a dupe," proposed Climber.

"Or Palpatine could have come afterward," said Ras, "and corrupted the instructions. The actual Order wasn't informed about us until soon before Geonosis."

Reuma scratched her face scars thoughtfully, a bad habit of hers. "Jango wasn't very chatty when he offered me the job with you lot. Just said I had to disappear for a while, not tell _anyone_ where I was going. But he was working for Dooku, and Dooku was the _leader_ of the CIS."

"A separate job?" Climber asked.

"Has to be. It was the _Jedi_ who arranged for you to be created, not Dooku."

"But it makes no _sense_," burst out Climber. "The order to wipe out the Jedi was pre-taught during the crèche-schools. Why would they _order_ us to wipe them out?"

"Maybe Dooku instructed the orders," suggested Ras.

"Then how did Palpatine find out? They were mortal enemies!"

"The Kaminoans could have told him,"said Reuma thoughtfully, "professional ethics, and all."

"Lucky for Palpatine though, isn't it?"

"Maybe that's what gave him the idea. I _knew_ he was trouble the moment I saw him. Had a smile like Ranat. Gods know how he managed to convince that monster on Murkhana to follow him."

Climbers' smile was wry. "Power is very tempting."

The gloomy silence after this statement went on for a long time.

"Anyone get that bastards' name?" asked Reuma eventually.

"Lord Vader or something like that," Climber told her. "Emperors' new Jedi-killer."

_Vader_. Reumas' heart sunk to her boots. She had heard that name before.

From the mans old master, on Tatooine.

_I knew you weren't dead, kid. Damn, I wish you were._

"Are you sure about that?" she said slowly.

"Dead sure. Salvo was very impressed with the transcription of him, such as it was."

"Shit." They all looked at her. "We have a problem then. I know him."

_That_ caused a stir. "From before?"

"Oh yeah. From before. You boys ever heard of Anakin Skywalker?"

There was a moment's complete and utter silence. They knew what she was getting at.

Climber closed his eyes. "Problem all right, sarge."

"Oh yes." A real problem. She had flown in the mans' squadron for almost the entire war, had rescued an errant commando team with him a year ago. He would know how she thought. How she would fight. Where she would run to.

A problem.

"So what now?" Ras asked glumly.

_What indeed._

Reuma shook her head. Where did wanted criminals run to?

The answer was easy. They either ran to places like Tatooine – a place she wouldn't go if her life depended on it now, knowing who was there – or they ran to other criminals.

"For now we get the Empire off our tail," she told them. How they trusted her. It was worrying, how dependent they were on her now. "After that... I don't know. I really don't."

They accepted that, they probably thought she'd come up with a plan.

The trouble was she hadn't the slightest clue if she could.

XXXXXXXX

It was Climbers first time on a YT-2400, and he was doing a bit of exploring.

Sarge was up in the cockpit, calculating their next jump. She had passed on a bit of smuggler know-how to them- two jumps good, three jumps better, four jumps safe. Since it was the Empire after them, she was going to do five jumps. Just in case.

Ras was rummaging around the cargo hold for clothes. They had told- bluntly- that clones in full armour would attract attention and that now they were outlaws that was the _last_ thing they wanted. Unfortunately, sarge was a bit on the small side and female to boot, which meant that most of the stuff didn't fit. Climber himself had cut the sleeves off one of the jackets and was wearing it over his issued bodysuit, until they could stop for something larger.

It was uncomfortable, mostly because he felt absurdly exposed without his armour. It was like having a giant 'SHOOT ME' sign plastered over his back.

He grinned. _And I know what that feels like_, he thought, _because I met Zip once. _

He wandered around the circular main corridor, idly checking out the rooms. If it came down to a firefight he would need to know every inch of the ship, to judge ambush sites, weak points and fallback positions. Besides, he was nosy.

He caught sight of a small room and poked his head inside to check it. And stopped.

It looked like sarges' cabin.

He quickly glanced up towards the cockpit, and went inside. It was a little untidier than the rest of the ship, but relatively clean. A pair of old boots were tucked under the bed, a trunk was parked by the bunk at the back, that seemed to be serving as a desk. The one on the right side had been ripped out completely.

He moved towards the 'desk'. Most of it was bare, save for some scattered loose change, a shining stone that shimmered red, orange and gold and... a picture...

He picked it up. It was a holopicture, taken on what looked like Coruscant. It showed four commandos in grey-white standard armour, a blotchy green thing in the corner of the projection.

"Seen enough?"

He jumped a foot in the air. Reuma had walked softly enough to startle him, not an easy feat. She peered over his shoulder and smiled sadly.

"Jenth sent me that just before Utapau. They were sent to Coruscant."

He looked back. Yes, there was Zip alright; you couldn't forget that massive WESTAR rifle or the unique blue-stripe motif on his helmet. He tended towards weapons that packed a serious punch, in complete contrast to the commando who he was sitting cross-legged next to. Crash preferred precision over firepower, as attested to by hisBC7 carbine. Like the others he had been instructed in melee weapons by his trainer. Unlike the others, he relished in close combat.

It was a well-know fact among the commandos of the GAR that Crash always had at least six vibroknives concealed in various places in his armour, much like his _Cuy'val Dar _sergeant, as well as a Cortosis staff he had looted soon after Stronghold while on Kintan. He had painted his gauntlets with red and black bars extending from the concealed vibroknives in the knuckles, something which was profoundly disturbing if you knew what he was capable of doing with the subjects of the decoration...

Aine stood beside him, hands clasped calmly over his own T-21 repeater. Personally he was inclined towards the Mandalorian way of thinking about weapons.

The only thing better than a big blaster is one that shoots faster.

After Stronghold Aine had been offered Jaig eyes as an award for his bravery, which he had refused unless the other two members of Jenth had been awarded them as well. Consequently, all three bore red triangles on their helmets.

Reuma caught Climber staring at the two strangers. "Don't ask me who the commando is, I've no idea. I don't think they like him much."

Climber was inclined to agree. The unmarked commando stood a little apart from the others, a solitary figure in a band of brothers. As Jenth weren't a particularly unfriendly group, he had to wonder why this newbie was being ostracized.

He pointed at the green thing. "What is that?"

"You know about that mad Nautolan on Geonosis?"

Climber nodded. The mad Nautolan from Geonosis, the one with the permanent grin and the green lightsaber, had become the clone trooper equivalent of an urban myth. Not that they had told him that, of course.

"Well, that's his thumb." He gave her a quizzical look, and she smiled. "Stupid Jedi didn't take his hand away in time.

He laughed. "They got a _Jedi_ to take the picture?"

"Probably grabbed the first person who came along," she said with a grin.

"Just like them."

"Ah, Fisto was alright. Insane, but a good general."

"Is he...?"

"Dead? Yes."

There was a long silence. Climber felt uncomfortable, and looked at his sergeant. What he saw shocked him.

She looked... strange. Tired. _Small_. He had never seen her as small. She had always loomed large in their psyches, she had always been _big_. Their _big _sister. And... she was only in her thirties. That was_ young _for a normal. Now she looked old, battered, shabby, _worn out_. And that wasn't _right_.

Climber would rather have shot off his own foot than admit it, but the sight of his sergeant looking so fragile scared him. Scared him horribly.

_What if something happens to her?_

It was a hideous thought, but... if she was hurt...crippled..._killed_...

What would they _do_?

The very idea made him shudder. Reuma noticed, looking concerned.

"You alright bro?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She wasn't fooled for an instant.

"Whatever it is, no worries about it." She clasped his arm. "I'll look after you. I _promised_."

He gripped her hand back. He hoped so. He had lost too many already – Trace, who could hack into any system ever made, whose jokes had kept all their spirits up on a dozen campaigns on as many worlds... Ordin, grim and silent, utterly loyal and totally deadly, killed like his namesake by a _Jedi_. Or at least, a Force-user.

Just him and Ras left then. Just he and his brother and his _ori'vod_, all that remained of that little group nine years ago, when he had found someone who did not look like him and yet was still family. Someone who had saved them from a fate that was, for all Mandalorians, worse than death itself.

Someone who _cared_.

They couldn't loose that.

He wouldn't_ let _them loose that.

He clasped his sergeants' hand in his own. "We know."

XXXXXXXX

Nar Shadda, the Smugglers Moon, blocked the cockpits view with its sordid surface. Reuma sat in her piloting seat, rapt.

"Gods," Ras heard her mutter, "I used to practically _live_ here."

They landed in a seedy spaceport- they were all seedy- and lowered the ramp. Reuma disappeared at once, the agreement being that she would find disguises for them, before anything else happened. Ras and Climber were in charge of the ship until she got back. She had joked about this.

"Nice to have guards this time," she had said with a smile.

Ras had smiled back, but his brother had gotten moodier lately for some reason, and just nodded. Ras was worried about him, but kept his opinions to himself, as he knew it wasn't really his business.

They paced the corridors of the _Blood Star_, while the hours passed by. It was late morning, nearly three hours later, when Reuma had got back. She was buried under piles of boxes, and looked enormously pleased with herself.

They pestered her about the contents, but she refused to tell them what they were until all the stuff was on boards. Then, grinning like an indulgent parent on Life-day, she let them open the first.

Guns._ Lots_ of guns.

Ras' face lit up.

"Oh sarge you shouldn't have!"

She grinned wider. "Wait till you see the rest."

The second box was full of clothes- pants, shirts, boots, hats, all smuggler-style or of Corellian make, two things that were practically interchangeable. The third was full of edibles- they had been running low on fresh food for a while. The fourth completely baffled them, and for some reason Reuma found this box the best.

Climber lifted out a packet of cosmetics. "What the _hell_?"

She shrugged. "You look like clones. I need to make you not look like clones."

"With _makeup_?"

She examined the packet. "You daft bugger, that's _my_ stuff. _This_ is yours."

She held up some more sachets. Climber didn't look much happier. Reuma smiled at him.

"Care to join me in the fresher?"

XXXXXXXX

Climber walked out an hour later. Ras took one look and collapsed in laughter.

Climber scowled. "You're next, wise guy."

He shut up.

Another hour had passed before Reuma was pleased with them. She gave them each a mirror and told them to take a good look before they went out, just in case they needed to recognise themselves.

"Nice or what? I should do this professionally."

Climber looked in his. His hair was now a dusty brown colour, his skin several shades lighter, iris enhancers turning his eyes hazel. The light grey shirt, dark pants, hide boots and utility belt with hold-out blaster made him look, in his mind, like a down-and-out spacer. Ras shared a glance with him. His hair was lighter, his skin the same tan, his iris enhancers green-grey. His clothes were similar, but with a kitbag and holster instead of a belt.

Reuma looked them both over. She had done little except dye her hair black and dull her eyes from gold to brown. The makeup, Climber saw, had gone a long way towards disguising her facial scars and Kiffar tattoos.

They were going, sarge explained, to a place she knew that did fake IDs, which she had no doubt they would need. She handed them both leather jackets, before donning one herself and slipping in her paired KYD pistols.

"There. Just three more scum looking for work. Now try and _act_ like it."

"Sarge..." Climber wasn't sure how to say it. "We never did any spec ops stuff, you know. We might not be very good actors."

She shook her head in amusement, beckoning them out. "If it helps any, you won't have to act. We _are _three more scum looking for work."


	4. Sizable bounties

**3: Sizable bounties**

_There are many words to describe Nar Shadda, but if I repeated them I'd probably get arrested. It's the only city I know that started out decadent._

_-Reuma Seritole (sgt, GAR) to Ion Squad before landing._

Daylight it might have been when they went out, but the place they were heading to stood in perpetual night.

A Wookie straight from Kashyyyk might have understood the dynamics behind it, drawing parallels the Shadowlands of their homeworld with the underlevels of the Smugglers Moon. Like the Shadowlands, they were dark, dank, full of scurrying things and strange noises. It had predators, prey and packs of feral things. It had towering structures overhead, where things watched unseen. It operated on the same three basic guidelines.

One- if you are not a threat, you are at threat.

Two- don't make eye contact.

Three- nowhere is safe.

Newcomers often found themselves breaking one of these and falling victim to its many predators. Reuma had been, a long time ago, one of those newcomers. The fact she had survived her first encounter was down to luck of birth.

Like the Wookies, her home had its Shadowlands.

Their destination was a run-down sub-basement that leaked orange beams into the murky streets. The door was half-sunken in and low, so that any visitors would be forced to descended and duck before entering. This was a precaution, so that any unwelcome guests might conveniently place their own heads ready for a handy club... should that be needed.

Reuma stood in the sunken doorway and kicked three times with her heavy boots. A strip of rusty iron at face level slid back, and a pair of glowing eyes appeared.

"_Choy uba naga_?"

"I want to see Yarkul," Reuma said shortly. "Tell him Seritole wants to buy from him."

The eyes slid towards the clones, who were standing stock-still. "_Hoohah_?"

"With me."

"_Hagwa yatuka_." The orbs winked out, and the strip slid back.

Ras coughed a bit. "Friend?" His sergeant spat.

"Acquaintance." She paused. "Either of you know Huttese?"

They shook their heads and she shrugged. "I'll need to teach you then."

A loud creak made them all start. The door was sliding back, and a hairy, smelly thing materialized out of the rusty darkness behind it.

"_Bolla noleeya. Yarkul chowbaso chuba_."

Reuma tipped him a handful of credits. "Here, now go take a bath. Or just roll in some perfume."

The hairy thing sniffed and scurried off into a side room. She led the clones down through the damp, gloomy murk, passing by numerous alcoves where hostile eyes were watching. At the end of the corridor was a portal, wreathed with smoke. They cut through the smog and into the room beyond.

Through the haze Ras could see various beings- chiefly Rodians, Twi'leks of both gender, Humans and Whipid- lounging in corners with pipes, or chewing unnameable substances from shadowy recesses. They went through the room, towards a corroded door near the end guarded by two Wroonians. Not a word was spoken as the door was opened for them.

Inside was a tall, curly-haired blond Human in a smart, dark trader's robes with dress pants. He rose as soon as she came in.

"_Chowbasa, Seritole, haku du inkabu. Un yocola_?"

"No thanks, Yarkul, this is business only," Reuma declined. "And it's rude to speak when people can't understand you."

His eyes flashed towards the clones quickly, taking in their appearance. "Of course, forgive my lack of manners. Please sit down."

They did so, both clones keeping a surreptitious hold on their blasters. The other noticed, but chose not to say anything, only nodding at them. Reuma gave them a warning glance.

Yarkul smiled briefly. "I don't suppose you've told them too much about me?"

She shook her head. "Nothing that would get you arrested, think of it like that. We need IDs, Yarkul. Then we leave."

"Naturally, naturally... good ones I expect, given the size of the bounties on your heads?"

Reuma didn't show outwards surprise, but apparently Yarkul had known her long enough to second-guess her thoughts. "Quite substantial bounties, I must say. But first you had better explain some things to your clone friends, as I can see them preparing to shoot me. It might put a crimp on my business dealings, so a few words...?"

She turned to Climber and scowled at him until he let go of the blaster. Then she heaved a sigh. "Lads, this is Yarkul, a go-between for the Hutts. He deals in information, narcotics and false documents, in that order."

"Concise as always, Seritole," the blond man nodded. "I don't suppose you'd consider working for us again?"

_Again_, Ras noted.

"Sorry, Yarkul, we're just here for some cover," she declined. "What's the deal on the bounty?"

"The same as all of them," was the wry reply. He pulled out a datapad, etched with three images. A line of words underneath was spelt out in Basic and Huttese. "'Wanted for sedition, assault upon Imperial personnel, aiding the escape of prisoners and treasonous sympathies, one Reuma Seritole Taruni, rank sergeant, one RC- 3578, rank Captain and one RC-3897, rank trooper. Reward upon capture- 150,000 credits per head for a live capture, 75,000 credits per head for the transfer of identifiable bodies. By order of the Emperor, etc and so forth."

He put down the pad, watching his stunned audience. "Any person on this planet with a blaster -which is most of them- could earn themselves 225,000 credits tonight with three quick shots. A reasonably skilled bounty hunter could earn themselves 450,000. You will need _very_ good documents to escape those fates."

"That's why we came to you," Reuma said after she had recovered a little.

"Hmm, maybe, but if they were traced back to me upon capture..."

"I know bloody well that you won't make them traceable. Yarkul, we _need_ your stuff. If the reward's that big every half-arsed bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for us. As _well _as the Empire."

He nodded. "I am curious to know _how_ you managed to upset the government so much, Seritole."

"I might even tell you..._ after_ you make the order for the IDs."

He sighed. "Very well. How many copies?"

"Four for each of us. Just in case."

"What types?"

"IDs and trader permits, best there is." She thought it over. "And some matching transponders for the _Blood Star_."

"That much will be expensive," he warned.

"I can afford it. Four thousand plus the information."

"Six thousand."

"Five."

"Deal." He leaned back and tapped data into the desktop terminal, pressing a button with an air of finality. "And now, an explanation? Just to pass the time."

Reuma leant back, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. Ras didn't move. "It's pretty simple, really. My boys got in trouble with their bosses, and I helped them. Now the Empire wants us tortured and shot."

"I fail to see," said Yarkul dryly, "how two clone commandos could get into trouble with their 'bosses', since as far as I know they are genetically programmed for obedience."

Reuma didn't bother asking how he knew. "It was a mistake on their part, and anyway _I_ trained them. That should tell you enough."

"Indeed." He picked up the bounty notice absently. "It says assault. I assume this means during the breakout."

"You could say that." Reuma was very careful to keep a straight face.

"Treasonous sympathies, I suspect, means Jedi. Sedition?"

"I tried to run over Darth Vader."

The words almost made him drop the pad. However, he was controlled enough not to shout. "That would explain some of the price I guess..."

"Yeah, it might." She smiled. "It could also be due to what his ship captain might have told him I said they could do."

"Which I suppose was something incredibly rude?"

"Yup."

He shook his head in disbelief. "And what will you do now?"

"I'll think of something. It might be safer for you not to know."

"True."

Yarkuls' comlink beeped and he glanced down at it. "The documents are ready. Collect them by the door, and I wish you well. You will need all of your luck, Reuma."

She didn't stop until the door, her brothers clustered around her. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

With that they left.

XXXXXXXX

The Holonet receiver was beeping and flashing when they got back to the _Blood Star_- renamed the _Trickster._ It had grown later, the sky stained red with sunset and etched with the harsh black lines of skyscrapers.

Reuma hit the activator and swore. The holograph was fuzzy with static; the feed corrupted by gods knew what. She started to clean up the data flow, and the picture began to clear.

It was Yarkul. The message was brief.

"_This was sent out a few minutes ago on the military channel. Farewell and good luck."_

The holo disappeared, only to be replaced with a stream of data. Climber looked at it and almost dropped his blaster.

"Jenth!"

The word had an electrifying effect on his two comrades. Reuma read out the message.

"Imperial commando squadron 'Jenth' has been reported as enemies of the state, traitors, and sympathisers to traitors by commando RC-7223. A reward is offered for their capture, and any aid granted will be seen as a wilful act of treason." She looked up at her brothers.

Ras swallowed. "Where's it from?" he asked her.

"Coruscant." Reumas' face was unreadable.

"Gods."

They knew exactly what they were going to do, but Climber felt he should point out the dangers. "It's risky sarge. Chances are they'd catch us."

"I know."

"Jenth might already be dead. If they aren't we wouldn't know where to find them."

She rested her chin on the palm of her hand. "I'd know."

He gave up. "When do we lift off?"

"Now." She stood and gestured back towards the cabins. "Bunk down and get some rest. At top speed we reach Coruscant in three days."

They obeyed at once. Climber glanced back as he left, watching their captain.

She was replaying the report, her face shadowed by the holos' light.

* * *

A quick Huttese lesson...

_Choy uba naga_ What you want?

_Hoohah_ Them

_Hagwa yatuka_ Don't move.

_Bolla noleeya. Yarkul chowbaso chuba_ Come in. Yarkul welcomes you.

_Chowbasa, Seritole, haku du inkabu. Un yocola_? Welcome, Seritole, what a surprise. A meal?


	5. Ironies and shiny droids

_Dedicated to weebleeedeegogers, the only reviewer so far._

**4: Ironies and shiny droids**

_Just remember: in a battle you can either be healthy or wounded. If you're healthy, don't worry. If you're wounded, you will either recover or die. If you recover, don't worry. If you die, you can't worry._

_So really, no worries. _

_-Reuma Seritole (sgt, GAR) teaching her assignment on Kamino. _

They ran through darkness, pursued by demons.

They ran through darkness, falling deeper into the shadows as they did.

They ran, and as they did they threaded their path with fire.

They weren't running _away_. They were running_ towards_.

They were _attacking_.

In front of them- their former comrades. In front of them- men they knew as well as themselves. In front of them- their brothers.

They mowed them down, and leapt over the bodies.

They were traitors, murderers. They were outlaws, criminals. They would never stop running after this, and they knew it.

They were different. They had been for a while. Over a year in fact.

They were Jenth squad, three clone commandos trained by a maverick ex-smuggler.

They ran, and night fell around them.

XXXXXXXX

Climber woke to the sound of pounding. Sarge was kicking their door.

"Wake up, we're here! Get some damn blasters!"

_Might take more than blasters_, he thought as he searched for his boots. _A few thousand star destroyers maybe._

"Get to the cockpit!"

They ran up and sat down hurriedly. Traffic Control was already hailing them by holocom.

"Trickster,_ this is air control. Identify yourselves._"

Reumas' hand was trembling slightly as she hit the reply button. "Air control, this is Fria Redstar, captain of the _Trickster_. Transmitting now."

A hesitation. "_Cleared to proceed. Please land at Eastport, docking bay 105_."

"Received. _Trickster_ out."

All three breathed out as the _Blood Star_ floated downwards, skipping aside for the many trading and transport vessels clogging the sky. As Eastport loomed in front of them, Reuma turned around.

"When we get off, follow me and don't talk. Bring your IDs."

They nodded silently. The docking bay filled their vision as, with only the smallest of bumps, they hovered down to a smooth landing.

Climber prayed their launch was just as smooth.

XXXXXXXX

"Sarge!"

Aine turned. The squad had bunked down in an abandoned cellar, undisturbed save for the occasional skitter. He knew it was only a matter of time before they were re-discovered.

Zip looked unusually sober. "We got a transmission. From an unknown source."

He looked at the message in his brothers gloves, reaching out to take it delicately with his. Aine still hadn't got used to his new biomech hand.

It was short and to the point. STAY PUT. WE ARE COMING

"What do you think it means, sarge?"

He looked down at the message again. _Stay put. We are coming._

_We._

"We wait," he said, "and then we see. Start building some barricades."

"Righto."

He went back to treating Crash. None of them had taken significant injuries during the flight, but Crash was still recovering from their mission to Cato Neimodia a month ago, and even now he had difficulty breathing when under stress. Aine applied the bacta carelessly, his thoughts elsewhere.

Over in the corner, the newest addition to the squad clanked and whirred through corroded wires.

XXXXXXXX

"Do we fire?"

CT-12/26367 looked as his command. They were all loyal, no question. All dedicated to the New Order, as they had been to the Old. Unquestioning obedience, some of the best of the 501st.

On the other hand there were only ten of them, and he had a suspicion that ten troopers versus three commandos could only go one way.

"Fall back and wait for reinforcement," he ordered. "Set a watch on the cellar. Two men each hour."

"Yes sir."

CT-12/26367 had very unsentimental idea of how bad this was going to get, and he wanted plenty of support before the blasters starting firing.

XXXXXXXX

"Turn left. Straight down."

They were deep in the underlevels of Coruscant, the Centres own Shadowlands. They had no trackers with them, no scanners, no equipment of any sort- except what their sarge could use.

"Blasters out. Turn right."

Climber would have been the first to admit it was spooky. Half of the time she was walking with her eyes shut.

"Right again."

They were all in full armour now. HUDs were all working; belts were loaded with dets and med supplies, the best Verps money could buy were held in their hands. Two clones troopers and a Mandalorian in full red battle-dress. Whatever else they were, they _looked _impressive.

"Get ready. Basement window on the second left. Two guards."

"Shoot to kill?"

A slight hesitation. "No. I'll handle them"

Climber accepted this gratefully. Right now they were in a battle situation, so whatever Reuma said got obeyed without question. They could agonise about what happened afterwards.

If there _was_ an afterwards.

She signalled for them to wait at the alley corner, before walking around without any caution at all. It was only long, exhaustive training that stopped him from crying out or following her.

For the rest of his days Climber never understood what happened next. There were shouts, a pause full of running feet, the clatter of a weapon being dropped, a couple of wet sounding thumps, some groans and... nothing.

Deeply unnerved, he and Ras walked around the corner just as Reuma was dragging the bodies out of sight. A long, bloody one-edged knife that glinted blue was still clenched in her right hand. There was a long silence; the sort that happens when there is a great deal to say but no one wants to say it.

Ras broke it, along with the window. He almost lost his foot to blasterfire, before Reuma rather foolishly stuck down her head and bellowed "_Stop that fucking racket and get out here now!_"

There was yet another pause, before a helmeted head was stuck through the window. By the customised helmet, Climber saw it was Zip.

"Nice of you to drop in, sarge."

"Less jokes, more moving," she said firmly.

"There's something in our way, sarge. Eight or so something's to be exact about it."

"We'll deal with those. You just get ready."

"Righto sarge."

"Um, sarge?" Climber muttered after the head had left. "_How _do we handle the eight something's?"

She gave him an amused look. "With blasters, kid, what else?"

XXXXXXXX

CT-12/26367 was having a bad day.

Two of his men were dead. That would have been bad enough, but they had managed to send back video feed of the one who had killed them, and what he had seen had convinced him to com his command and start talking to the civilian senior officer.

Because what he had seen had been someone, armed only with a knife, who had killed both of his best men in the space of ten seconds, and they had done so in the most singularly worrying type of gear ever to be seen on the other side of a weapon.

Mandalorian armour.

He was starting to have a very bad feeling about this. The feeling only got worse when the senior officer saw the footage for himself, choked and rang _his_ senior officer. Commander Bow of the 501st, fresh back from Kashyyyk. A veteran of the Jedi Temple. The right hand man of the Emperors right hand man.

Whatever he was facing down here was bad. Very bad.

The senior officer- now slightly shell-shocked- had relayed direct orders from Commander Fox. Stay put. Remain calm. Do_ not_ under any circumstances let the killer escape, even if it meant giving up on the traitors bunking down in the basement.

It was all somewhat inconsequential anyway, since CT-12/26367 was ambushed by the killer and two commandos five seconds after finishing the com call. He died doing his duty, firing his blaster to the last as his men were destroyed around him. He died a hero.

The only ones who mourned him were his slayers.

XXXXXXXX

The three commandos crawled out of their hiding place, looking around in amazement.

Climber didn't take any notice of them. He was too busy trying not to throw up.

On Murkhana he had surrendered to face certain death – _almost_ certain as it turned out – rather than kill his own brothers. That had been _his_ decision, for _his_ squad, and he had never regretted it. He had never thought to kill his own blood.

Now though...

He looked at the sprawl of eight bodies, all armoured like him, looking like him, the _same_ as him. He could pick out the three he had killed, by their positions and the blaster marks. He could remember shooting them, without any hesitation.

More to distract himself than anything he turned towards Jenth and noticed RC-2999 – Crash – leaning against the wall.

"You injured?" he asked anxiously.

Crash shook his head, letting Zip answer. "It's ok, captain, he just got eaten by a beetle on Cato Neimodia."

The two newcomers stared at him. "Sorry sir?" Ras asked. Sarge didn't look surprised, although that didn't astound him. She had probably _been_ on Cato Neimodia.

"Oh, the bug panicked and attacked him," Zip said airily. "He got chewed up a bit. That's why we got dumped here"

Climber looked at his sergeant, who managed to look smug through her helmet. He could guess who had requested the transfer.

"We got assigned to help a search team, but, um..."

"Yes?"

"Well, it's a long story, and it's probably best told by _him_."

He gestured over his shoulder to a shiny silver...

"A _protocol_ droid?" sarge said incredulously. "You ran away with a _protocol_ droid?"

"He just turned up again, sarge." Zip looked embarrassed.

She stalked off to help Crash, muttering into her helmet. Climber saw Aine duck his head unconsciously, and was glad his helmet hid his own grin. Sarges' dislike for droids was legendary.

Zip patted the droid on its shoulder. "At least she didn't shoot you, eh?"

It didn't answer, which Climber found surprising. He covered his confusion with a question.

"So how did you get Crash out of the beetle?"

Zip shrugged. "We didn't. Skywalker tickled the bug with his lightsaber until he dropped our _vod_."

"_Skywalker_?" Climber's face was hidden by the helmet, but his voice was expressive enough. "_General_ Skywalker? The _Jedi_?"

"Sure."

There was long wait while he assimilated this. He finally shook his head. "Fate," he said, "has a sense of humour."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Let's get out of this shithole."

XXXXXXXX

A while later, perhaps an hour after they were killed, a shadow came across the bodies of CT-12/26367 and his men. Behind it were clone troopers. Lots of clone troopers.

It looked at the corpses, laid out in burial poses. It gazed at the weapons laid beside them, carefully placed in their hands. It stared at the careful positioning of each cadaver, the way their helmets had been taken off and their eyes shut in a semblance of peace.

It regarded all of this for a very long time. Then it looked up.

A YT-2400 was lifting into the dawn.


	6. IS

**5: IS **

_Had to pick up Jenth today. Starting to feel like a clone Lost-and-Found in here._

_-_Blood Star_ ships log, __16/7/12_

That night there was a conference in the passenger lounge again. Sarge explained their situation the newcomers.

The newcomers also had input. They had been doing an anti-terror op near the Temple, when a message had been sent via clone channel. They had found the droid wandering around near the works, and had taken a look at it. Their newest member had apparently taken exception to what had been said.

"We didn't really want to get shot," Zip explained. "So we left."

"In a hurry," Crash added. He was clutching his staff and giving the impression of wanting to hit somebody with it. Everyone was keeping their distance.

Sarge leaned back. "Ok, so what's up with the droid?"

"It's a long story," said Aine.

"Do we have something else to do?"

He concurred. "We were assigned to help an ARC and two other squads in the search for Darth Sidious."

"Who?"

"The Sith Lord?" He saw her blank look, clear now they were all helmetless and armourless. "You know, the seppie leader? Dooku's' master?"

"No."

"Ah. Well, we were assigned with two Jedi as well –"

"Who?"

"Um, a Togruta called Master Ti, and some human." Aine hoped his discomfort didn't show on his face.

His hopes were in vain. "_Which_ human?" she asked ominously.

"Um..." He saw her glare and gave up. "Actually, it was Windu."

Everyone organic held their breath. If Reuma had a list of people she would like to do nasty things to, Windu came near the top, for obvious reasons.

"And what happened then?" she asked finally.

They all exhaled. "We searched, and found tracks leading to _500 Republica_, but then the seppies attacked and the Jedi pulled some of us out to help them above."

"And you were one of them?"

He nodded. "Luckily for us."

"Why?"

"Ask the droid."

They all turned on the protocol droid. Zip, the only technophile among them, had given it a power up and repaired some of its circuits, but had remained quiet throughout the escape and the flight.

Sarge didn't bother to hide the look of distaste on her face. "You're that damn droid they found in Gunrays' palace, aren't you? TC- something-or-other."

"TC-16, ma'am. Yes ma'am." Aine saw Climber roll his eyes at the prissy programmed voice.

"What happened?"

The droid babbled, as if it had been saving up the words. "Oh ma'am, Captain Dyne and Commander Valiant traced the footprints under the Republica, but they were ambushed and killed by Geonosians."

"Geos? On _Coruscant_?" She looked stumped, and Aine shook his head.

"Tell her who the bugs were guarding," he ordered the droid.

"Sir, I can't even–"

"Spit it out."

The droid gave the non-organic equivalent of a gulp. "They were guarding Darth Sidious, sir."

"And that was?" sarge asked with a look of trepidation.

"Chancellor Palpatine, ma'am."

A shocked silence fell, like a ton of duracrete. "Holy shit," said Climber in awe.

"He's a Sith," sarge whispered. "It all makes sense. Is that why...?"

Aine nodded. "We knew too much. The _droid_ knew too much."

"Then it was all a ploy." She sat back, as if stunned. "Dooku... Dooku _served_ him... the whole war... all the _deaths_... everyone who died...it was all a trick to get him into power..."

Aine reached out and grasp her shoulder, afraid she was going to be sick. He could remember his own feelings when he had heard it from the vocabulator of the silver droid, their amazement, the argument with RC-7223, how they had been forced to flee for their lives. The realisation that the whole war – everything they had been made for – all the deaths and sacrifices and wounds and brothers lost – had been for _nothing_, because the Separatists had already infiltrated the highest levels of government.

Worse. They _were_ the government.

"Did you hear about Kashyyyk?" Zip asked eventually.

The three others shook their heads and he elaborated. "They found some Jedi there and burned half the forest. One Jedi casualty and thousands of Wooks killed. A star destroyer got blasted apart though. Rumour is that it was Jedi work."

They all looked at each other grimly while Aine took up the story. "Evacuation transports managed to get by because of that, but most of the Wooks were caught on planet and slaughtered. Or captured for Trando slavers. Those lizards got the rights for the whole planet."

"They exporting them offplanet then?" sarge asked. She seemed to be thinking about something.

"With a little help from the Empire." He spat on the deckplates. "Profit in it for everyone that way."

"It's fairly close to the Perlemian as well," she mused. "A quick journey..."

"What're you getting at sarge?" Climber asked suspiciously. She looked at Jenth, catching Aines' eye. He gave a small nod.

"I think," she said deliberately, "that Jenth should share some information with you about the mission to Stronghold. I think it could be important."

And Jenth shared. They told the two last members of Ion squad about the Arkanian, about the capture, about the virus andJisth Zkaqul and the rescue. They told their brothers everything, about the effects, about what had happened afterwards- what 'freedom' had felt like, how they had hidden the truth. They left nothing out.

"It was strange afterwards," Zip said at the end. "You know that feeling you got when being given orders? We didn't get that at all. It was like something was missing."

"Something _was_ missing," Ras pointed out.

"Yeah. But it was still weird. Like the bits remaining tried to knit together and heal us up inside, but they didn't quit fit right." He shook his head. "Like nothing ever fit right."

"I still don't see how this ties in with Kashyyyk," Climber said with a doubtful look at his sergeant. She held up her hand.

"It's just a thought I had, is all. But I need your permission."

Crash snorted with laughter. "Sarge, you're leader. You don't _need_ permission."

"I might do for this." She looked at Ras and Climber. "I think there's a way to give you Jenths virus, but I'm not sure. And what we do after is highly risky, possibly insane..."

"...in other words our sort of work," said Zip.

"What he said. Spill it sarge, I'm not objecting to living longer," finished Climber.

"It's to do with that Arkanian." They all looked around. "Outside of Kamino, they're the best at bioengineering. If we travel to the homeworld, it might be possible one of them can replicate the virus."

"That'll be expensive, sarge," Aine told her.

She concurred. "Which is why this is a two-stage plan."

They all waited as she went on. "We go to Arkania. We pay them to replicate the virus, then we leave to earn money that I don't get bankrupted on payment. We go to Kashyyyk space and earn the cash, then come back as soon as they are done and get you two sorted out." She indicated Climber and Ras.

"There's no way to earn money in Kashyyyk, sarge," Aine told her. "Not unless you want to take up slaving."

"Oh but there is, lad, if you think about it." She hooked her thumb at the ceiling, and they followed it upwards. "What's this ship got?"

"Escape pods?"

"Cargo space?"

"A damn big gun was what I had in mind, really," she said. "See, we can pirate those bloody dirty slavers, take their money, weapons, and possessions, and _then_ give the ships to the Wooks on board. That way we get paid, they get free, and the Trandos get justice. Something for everyone."

There was an instant uproar. "It would never _work_, sarge!" Aine protested. "Those transports have at least six laser cannons, plus squads of mercs and V-wing fighters to guard them! _We_ just have a gun turret and some good shields..."

"Which is _why_ I was _going _to say that we need to steal some more ships," Reuma said with a glare at him.

"Oh? Which Star Destroyer did you have in mind?" Crash asked.

"Very funny. I was thinking more along the lines of Z-95s."

"Pity."

"Where?" asked Climber.

"Bogden's close. We put the order in at Arkania, fly to Bogden, steal some merc ships, then follow the Perlemian Trade route down the Roche Asteroids. It'll only be a few jumps from there to Kashyyyk." She leant back thoughtfully. "We could even stop at Tanaab for supplies on the way."

"You think of everything, don't you sarge?"

"Someone has to." She swept the room with her gaze. "Is everyone in on this?"

There was an instant show of hands, all pointing straight up. Zip looked around and laughed.

"Sarge, has it occurred to you that we need a squad name? If we're going to be pirates now I mean."

"You get to choose, kid."

This immediately sparked off a wave of suggestions.

"We Steal Your Stuff."

"The Arse-kickers Squad."

"Bloodbath Soldiers."

"The Six Crusaders."

"Wookie Lovers United."

"Crash, this might just be me but that sounds very wrong coming from you..."

"Shut up Zip."

"I've got one." They all turned to Aine, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "How about the Infinite Shadows?"

"Can't quite see the reasoning behind that," sarge confessed.

"Well, you know the song _Warriors of the Shadows_?" They all nodded. "Well, that's us now. We strike from dark places and fade away. And we're infinite, because we will never give up and if sarges' plan works we're all going to live longer than we were planned to."

They thought it over. "It's a good name," Ras said finally.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Are we Shadows then?"

"Yep. We IS."

"What?"

"Never mind Crash, it'll look better written down."

"What about the droid?" asked Climber, cutting in on the little exchange.

Sarge looked meaningfully at the airlock. Zip, who had found the droid in the first place, protested.

"Aw c'mon, can't we keep him?"

"No."

"He might be useful..."

"He's a _protocol droid_. The downsides always outweigh the benefits with them."

"I could reprogram him."

"_Definitely_ not."

Ras joined in the argument; maybe sticking up for the commando he got along best with. "We could use him to hack into systems."

"Got any in mind?"

"No," he admitted.

"See?"

"Go on sarge, give him a chance," pleaded Zip. Aine hid a smile.

She sighed, perhaps sensing defeat. "I'll give in a trial run. But as soon as he gets too annoying, it's airlock time."

Zips' face split into a grin, and he gave the droid a comradely smack on the back. "Well done shiny, you're in the maddest, most hopeless bunch of misfits in the galaxy!"

The protocol droid pulled itself upright. "I fail to see the benefits, master Zip."

XXXXXXXX

And then there were six.

The trip to Arkania was easy, the buying of life even more so. Enough money will buy the very souls of some beings, a few months of work is nothing in comparison. The threat of the Empire was not heard very loudly by the Arkanians. It should have been.

The pirating of four space-worthy vessels was fairly simple as well. The moons of Bogden and their planet were criminal-ridden holes of wrongdoing, the sudden disappearance of a few snub fighters was just part of daily life.

Four fighters, one freighter. Five ships.

Five ships against corvettes with triple-layered armour and multiple cannons. Five against all the spacecraft the Empire could afford, conveys that numbered sometimes in tens of dozens.

Five against all that. It could be called unfair.

But then if those convoy pilots had wanted a quiet life they would have become farmers.


	7. Always remember Rule 1

**6: Always remember Rule 1 **

_Hostiles on approach. Requesting immediate backup._

_-transmitted from the cargo runner _Reliable

"Shadow Leader, target locked and ready. Starting our attack run."

"I copy Shadow Four. Acknowledged and good to go."

"I love it when you say that sarge. Makes me feel all excited."

"Shut up and fly Zip."

"Yes sarge. Alright remember the squad motto people!"

A muffled voice came over the comlink. "I still protest about using his damn stupid slogan, sarge."

"Be patient, Shadow Two. It keeps him happy."

"Yeah, you heard the lady, bro. Now remember... IS makes Trandos Hiss!"

"Sarge..."

"I know Crash. Just ignore him and shoot."

Their strategy for dealing with the convoys was simple enough. The four Z-95 Headhunters would dart in first, drawing the fighter escorts into running battles. For the most part all that was needed was superior clone training and reflexes, but in reality these dogfights were just a stalling technique. The _real_ purpose was as a distraction.

"Hit and kill! Hit and kill!"

"Watch your back, Two, he's on your tail."

"Sorted."

"Try and remember Rule One, bro."

"You spent too much time with those Delta psychopaths."

It allowed the _Blood Star_ to slip through the escort defences and hammer the cargo transports with missiles, opening up its shields enough for disabling laser cannon fire.

"Cargo weapons disabled. Aiming for the engines and hyperdrive."

"No worries Shadow Leader, we've got this lot covered."

"Yeah, Rule One doth rule supreme."

"Zip, I am behind you and my cannons are hot. Don't tempt me."

One the main target was dead in space; it was time to pick off the remaining fighters. This was usually quite simple, as when their escort was down there wasn't any reason for them to stay.

"Their breaking off, Shadow Leader. Do we pursue?"

"Negative Shadow One. Let them run."

"Want us to knock for you?"

"_Negative_, Shadow Four. Last time you almost vaped the hatch."

"You're no fun Shadow Leader."

"Shut up Zip."

The boarding procedure was pretty simple too. The pair of freighters docked, and the two occupants of the Blood Star- one Reuma Seritole and Climber- would blow open the hatch. Of late, the slavers had taken to including a greater number of guards in an effort to halt the attacks.

In reality it only increased the amount of time the two combatants spent killing.

"All those screams make me want to join you, Shadow Leader."

"Crash, sometimes you really worry me."

"No-one asked you, Zip."

The most difficult stage of the op was, in fact, _after_ the rescue. This was when both freighters were locked together, the cargo runner unable to move or defend itself and the YT crewless. It was always a race against time to get all the Wookie captives on board the _Blood Star_, before reinforcements arrived.

"Shadows, we are good to go. Undocking now."

"Copy that Shadow Leader. Falling back."

"I love this bit."

"Shadow Leader, I protest this. _I_ want to blow up the ship!"

"Oh act your age, Zip."

"Er, sarge? He's thirteen." "

Hey, can I be a sulky teenager?"

"What's the difference?"

"I object to that, Crash."

"True though."

"They're all picking on me sarge!"

"All Shadows are hereby commanded to _shut up and concentrate on the job_. Go ahead Crash."

"Oooo, fireworks!"

"Trando ships blow up real pretty."

"You said it Ras... Shadow Three."

"Set coordinates for Hyperspace jump Five."

"Set and ready Shadow Leader. How are the furballs?"

"Amazed by your brilliance, Shadow Four. Less impressed with the nickname though."

"Er, ok. Though I suppose all clones sound the same to them..."

"Suppose so _Zip_."

They jumped.

XXXXXXXX

It's nice right at the start of a battle, when the adrenalines pumping and your mates are around you, ready to dice with death. But most times celebrating with them afterwards is nicer.

It's even better when there are thirty or so grateful civilians and their families wanting to pay you back for rescuing them.

The Shadows had worked out a policy for the liberated Wookies. A few makeshift villages had been erected far from the cities, all with handy escape routes, defensible positions, and lookout posts. Already the guerrilla fighters established since the invasion of Kashyyyk had begun to use the villages as drop-off points for wounded and young they found on their excursions.

None of the Shadows minded. If the guerrillas had a stake in the settlements then they would protect them. It all worked out to the villagers' advantage.

This specific rescue was turning out particularly well. The Wookies were introducing their saviours to the joys of accarragm, a potent brew made from fungus, and the Shadows – apart from Ras, who was diligently trying to learn Shyriiwook from TC-16 –had decided to try out alcohol for once. It was proving to be very educational.

"Any news on the Arkanians yet, sarge?"

Reuma looked up from her cup. Climber had been expressing impatience lately about their forthcoming cure.

"They'll be ready in a few days, or so they said. They just need to hammer out some fine details."

"A few days is a long time."

"No worries, kid, I'll keep you both alive until then."

An eruption of howling cheers made them look up. The rest of the Shadows were standing in a circle of appreciative Wookies, spreading out in the ready pattern for what Reuma recognised as _Dha Werda Verda_. Aine waved at them to join in, and Climber looked around at Reuma. She nodded.

"Go on lad. I'm not tipsy enough to play right now."

He leapt up and ran over to join the others. They chant started up.

"_Taung-sa-rang-brok-ka-Je-tii-se-ka'rta!_

_Dha-Wer-da-Ver-d-a'den-tratu!"_

Reuma had never been very good at _Dha Werda_. It took perfect timing, total trust in your mates and team spirit. The first two went without saying, but she had never had much of the last. Not much of a team player.

"_Kash-yy-yk-a-kan-dosii-adu!_

_Duum-mo-tir-ca-'tra-nau-tracinya!"_

She grinned at the change to the words. Coruscant wasn't too popular here

The Wookies were picking up the beat, smacking hairy paws together and roaring in time. They wouldn't have understood the words, but they knew what the song _meant_.

"_Gra-'tua-cuun-hett-su-dralshya!"_

Reuma unexpectedly felt the need to be alone. No one would notice. She could finish the rest of the accarragm somewhere quite and come back in time to bid everyone goodnight.

She picked up her cup and wandered off into the tree-shadow, where the branches formed a dark tunnel among the leaves.

XXXXXXXX

The heavens were very beautiful that night. It was the summer season for their side of the planet, and for once the skies had cleared to rich cobalt dotted with white stars. The air was breathless and hushed, as if their brilliance had made the wind stop and wonder.

Reuma stared upwards, clay cup lying forgotten beside her. Her legs were tucked under her chin, her arms wrapped around them. Around her some sort of luminous native bug had come out to welcome the dusk, whizzing around to create light-trails in the dusky air.

In the distance she could still hear the sounds of celebration, cheers and laughs and howls. It sounded as though some of the Wookies were trying to join in with _Dha Werda_.

But they were all somehow far away, and easy to ignore.

The twilight deepened from indigo to navy, making the stars shine brighter. Around her the noise of nocturnal animals waking up started to sound. Several types of flying bat-type things flittered around the base of the trunk, eating the glowies. It felt alive.

Reuma suddenly felt the urge to journey onward. It was something she had felt before at her childhood home, the urge to hike over the hills and see the new valley on the other side. The urge to explore and not stop until you were too tired to walk. A longing to see wonders, and share them with no-one.

She resisted. She had responsibilities; her brothers would worry where she had gone, the Wookies would panic that she had been eaten; she could get lost or hurt or fall or ambushed or _anything_. She was the eldest; she was supposed to be _sensible_.

Oh stuff it. Just once wouldn't hurt.

She looked down through the canopy. A rope ladder had been strung to the branches near the trunk, a hole cut in the leaves big enough for a Wookie to pass through. It looked like one of the escape routes.

Well, maybe she should see what the lower canopies looked like. Just as a recce exercise of course.

She walked over to the ladder and swung herself downwards.

XXXXXXXX

"She can't have just fucking _disappeared_!"

Ras winced, glancing at Crash with a helpless look. "We swept the whole area, Captain. Nothing."

It was past midnight, and most of the village had departed for makeshift beds or lookout posts high in the treetop. The clones had been granted three huts for themselves, but they weren't using them.

Climber fumed. "Something _must_ have happened. Sarge doesn't just wander off like some gormless _aruetii_. This is _wrong_."

"Ease up, Captain," soothed Zip. "She's probably just checking the defences."

"Don't you think we _looked_ there, you fucking _di'kut_?"

Zip saw Crash's face whiten with fury. His bro was a good fighter, but he shared his trainers' habit of acting in a terminal way towards insults directed at his mates. Aine saw the warning signs as well.

"Climber, calm _down_," he said sharply. "Sarge isn't a child. She's most likely gone off for a quiet drink somewhere."

It was a credit to Aines' knowledge of his sergeant that he could guess the reason why his sergeant had left. It was a tribute to Climber, however, that he knew enough to worry.

"Aine, she's been gone for_ two hours_. _No-one_ drinks that much, we're on a canopy, she could have fallen off or got lost somewhere..."

Crash was starting to look worried as well. They all were. However panicky Climber was getting, he had a point about their sergeants habits and the possibility of an accident.

"Did the Wooks check the area for Trandoshans?" asked Ras nervously.

"Probably, but it's an idea. Ambushes are always possible."

"She'd have felt it coming though." Zip hesitated. "Wouldn't she?"

Ras shrugged. "No idea. She hasn't been using the spooky stuff much lately."

"If they caught her off-guard..."

"C'mon, she took down two troopers with a knife on Coruscant."

"There might have been more of them."

"Or maybe..." they all turned to Crash, who was looking uncommonly awkward. "Just a sniper shot to the head would do it."

There was a deep and horrible pause.

"I'm going to look around the perimeter again."

"I'll go up to the over-canopy."

"I'll check the ships."

Aine didn't join in. He was looking at a shady corner, where the branches bent over to form a tunnel in the gloom.

XXXXXXXX

Reumas' hair-crest had risen in a ridge on her head at the interesting sights. This far down the gloom had deepened to a black murk, where the light didn't illuminate but outline the darkness. The glowies had gone, but dimly shining fungi clung to the branches and squished under her boots. Scuttling things darted underfoot, and in places ropes of slime hung downwards far enough to have to make her duck under them.

An odd calm descended on her as she carried on walking. Somehow the things she had worried about before- the Shadows, the rescued Wookies, her responsibilities, and her duty to them... all faded as she went further down over the rotten-leaf floor of the lower canopies. Somehow they belonged up in the light. Down here they were nothing but weak memories.

The nameless yearning lured her onwards, where they was a faint trail. Made by what she couldn't guess, some kind of animal maybe. The dead skeletons of plants had been worn off it over countless years, leaving a bare scrape of muddy wood and twigs. There was an odd, cloying smell around it, sweet but harsh.

She followed it down, her better-than-usual night vision losing all significance as the darkness deepened and pressed against her eyes. She started to wonder if she should go back, wavering as she saw the trail disappear into the dimness.

The strange compulsion came back stronger, urging her ahead. She could just have a look... just see what was round the corner...

She went onward.

XXXXXXXX

Aine found traces near a hole cut through the foliage, a strip of bark scratched off the trunk, leaving beaded yellow amber blood in its wake. For some reason the sight made him uneasy- like a dream from a long time ago he couldn't quite remember.

He couldn't explain why, but he kept seeing the tawny droplets as red.

The feeling passed, but it unnerved him. He didn't know the reason, but this place was sinister, and clone commandos are not easily frightened. His gut gave a warning lurch as he looked down, and he was not prone to vertigo.

What was that thing the Jedi said? About bad feelings?

He alerted the others, standing watch by the ladder while they arrived. There were no words as they gazed at the steps, or any when he took the lead going down.

XXXXXXXX

There was a clearing, like a dome under the overhang. The decayed and dead leaves had been piled into a soft mound in the middle. Bark had been rubbed off the branches around, muddy tracks smeared onto the wounds, and it stank. The whole effect was of a huge den.

As she crept further in she saw why. Laying on its side one the other side of the heap, so heavy it bent the branches under it, was a Katarn.

She froze. Katarn were the most dangerous of Kashyyyks denizens, with claws probably bigger than her and a jaw strong enough to chomp her head to mush. Adrenaline pumped as she stole closer, drawing a bead on the creatures head with her blaster.

As drew nearer she started to frown. The thing hadn't stirred since she had started to move. This was an animal that even the Wookies feared; shouldn't it be a bit livelier?

She came close enough to touch it, and did. It was stone cold.

So dead then. But what on Kashyyyk could kill a Katarn?

She looked around the clearing. There was no sign of a fight, any prints, or churned litter. She walked around the Katarn, checking it over. There were no slashes or bite marks, no marks on the body at all. As she travelled up the bulk of meat she grew increasingly puzzled. There was nothing.

She reached the head and leaned over it. There was a small injury near the glazed eye, one she hadn't seen before. It was charred and perfectly round, as if a beam of light had pierced through the roof of leaves and burnt a hole under its horns.

_Burnt. _

_Light._

_Oh shit. _

She spun just as the blade of ruby flame swept towards her neck.


	8. Either way

**7: Either way**

_Do you think sarge was ever this worried about _us

_-GAR channel, RC-3662 to RC-3889_

The Shadows were in their element. No matter how worried they were about their sergeant, their expedition down the layers of foliage was something they had had been trained to do for the better part of ten years. They had, quite literally, been born for situations like this.

As with all planetside excursions, they were in full clone armour. There was no reason not to wear it down in the underlevels, and plenty of reasons why they should.

Aine had become the unofficial leader. He seemed to know where he was going, partly by skill, partly by luck and partly instinct. Unlike Climber, he was pure calm as they followed the spaced-out footprints and disturbed leaf litter.

There was an unnatural hush that grew more apparent the deeper they went. There was no life around; even the luminous fungi's glow was muted somehow. It drew so dark they were forced to switch on their helmet lights to find their way around the pitfalls in the canopy.

It was Crash who spotted the trail. As he pointed it out to the others, Aine found himself looking around into the gloom.

There was nothing there. But he knew there had been. He didn't know how he knew, just that he _knew_.

Someone was watching.

They set off down the path.

XXXXXXXX

Climber wished he could believe in gods. He needed someone to pray to right now.

People died. No-one knew that better than they, than he himself. He had seen brothers shot, blown to bits, slashed by a Sith Lords blade, even dieing during live fire exercises before they had even reached the enemy. Killed by their creators, because they were just not good enough.

Or sometimes not even killed, just wounded. But that had been bad as well, the burns and the breaks and the amputations and the gashes. One had lost his whole arm in a faulty weapons' backfire. Another had had half his face burnt away in a LAAT crash. Sometimes it could have been prevented, sometimes it could not have been. Sometimes it was best not to speculate.

He accepted this is as part of life, as they all did. But somehow... somehow... with sarge, it hadn't seemed to apply. She was _sarge_. She didn't go around being vulnerable, getting hurt, _dieing_.

It wasn't possible. She would be alright. She was older, smarter, _sneakier_. She would be alright.

She had to be.

XXXXXXXX

They rounded the trail, and tensed. The clearing was just ahead.

The dead Katarn was still lying on its side by the leafy bed, a grotesque mountain of meat. It glassy eyes glared at them as they passed it by, but they paid it no attention. Their attention was fixed on the bundle of cloth and metal on the other side. It wasn't moving.

Aine stepped forward, but felt something nudge against his foot. He looked down, and it looked back.

After the initial panic he picked up the helmet and, dreading what he would see, looked inside. Then sighed and almost dropped it in relief. Empty.

They drew closer, and stopped. The helmet lights caught the whole scene in vivid, hideous detail.

Aine knew he would remember it forever.

Where the torches shone, wetness glistened. Stark black in the harsh light, bleached of colour. Where it had splattered on the chestplate and bracers, it gleamed darker against the brilliant crimson. Reuma was bent in a sideways huddle, leaning against the trunk of the canopy's supporting tree. Through his audio feed he could hear rough but faint gasping. She looked unconscious.

He heard Climber swearing, and Crash. Zip seemed to be having trouble breathing. Ras wasn't making a sound, but Aine could see his whole body shaking from where he crouched.

Reluctantly he squatted down lower, and gently drew back his sergeants' right arm. What he saw sickened him.

"Holy shit," said Climber weakly. In the background he heard Zip starting to retch.

Aine couldn't speak. There was blood everywhere of course, but he had seen blood before. Most of it was centred on Reumas' left arm and her leg, drawn up to her chest like she did when she was watching the stars. The rest of the details... he would remember those in his nightmares.

"They..." It was Crash, sounding queasy. "They _nailed _her... they nailed her to the_ tree_..."

From the sounds of it Ras was being sick as well. Aine felt himself shaking, the tremors working their way from the centre of his back outward. Whoever had attacked their sergeant had use vibroknives. Two of them.

One for her upper arm, the other for her lower leg.

The bleeding had been going on long enough to slow to a trickle. Aine knew that they had to act fast.

"Zip... c'mon bro, pull yourself together, get out some bandages and blood-stop. Ras..."

"Don't sir," he said unsteadily. "Please don't make me do it."

Aine hesitated, but nodded. Ras wouldn't have refused if he didn't have a good reason. "Climber, you go down to her leg. Crash, help Zip with the bandages. As soon as those things are out, plug the... the holes."

Climber nodded silently, shaking. They took up position.

"Ok, three...two..._now_!"

The knives came out with a jerk, as did the most horrifying scream Aine had ever heard from an organic mouth. Sarge had woken up.

"_Udesii_, sarge, its ok, we're here, you're fine, you're alright..." he kept up the steady stream of soothing words as he watched Crash and Zip stuff balls of fabric into the gaping holes left by the blades. She kept on rasping out her breaths, as if trying to speak.

"_Udesii_, _udesii_, hold still, it'll be fine, just keep still, just hold on..." but she didn't stop, trying to spit the words out through lips chewed raw.

Her face was stark white as she stared up at him, her eyes burnt as black as space. He caught her desperation flowing off her like smoke, tinged red with pain.

"_Him... he's here... trap..._"

As soon as the last word trickled from her mouth all five clones had leapt up. Aine felt the flesh above his prosthetic right hand start to flare, just as there was an uncomfortably familiar _snap-hiss_ behind them.

"Greetings Captain, sergeant, troopers. I have been waiting."

They turned to see the white-eyed face of Jisth Zkaqul.

XXXXXXXX

The effect on the commandos was immediate and instantaneous. All five raised Verps as one and let loose a veritable hailstorm of slugs, blasting at the Arkanian in the fury of all soldiers with a wounded comrade.

They fired until the ends of the blasters glowed red, until every slug they possessed was lost in the darkness... and not one touched their target.

It was only when there was nothing left to fire that they stopped, and then it was to reload. Zkaqul hadn't moved.

"I would strongly recommend against that," he said.

Crash was the only one to dignify it with a response, and it bordered faintly along lines of "Your opinions mean the same as Bantha crap to us."

Faintly. Some of the words he used were Huttese, and untranslatable.

Zkaqul smiled faintly as they aimed again. "Fire away, as I believe the expression goes. When you are ready to talk, I will still be here."

"_Cocky," _Ras muttered over the helmet private channel.

"_Do we listen_?" asked Zip.

"_Do we hell. Blow the_ di'kut _away_." This was from Climber, and sounded a great deal like a snarl.

Aine stared at the Arkanian, undecided. The most logical thing to do would be to shoot the rogue Jedi, but that hadn't worked and so he was stuck. Commandos had very few other options when it came to enemies.

He made an executive decision. "_Hold fire._"

"_You can't be _serious"

"_That was fucking _order_, Crash. Hold fire until I say so._"

Reluctantly, and with a great many glances at Aine, they lowered their weapons. He noticed none of them holstered them, however.

Zkaqul noticed as well, but chose not to comment. Instead he acknowledged Aine with a nod. "You are the sergeant, are you not?"

Aine switched to public broadcast. "One of two."

"Soon to be just one, I imagine."

He heard Climber growl something, and glared in his brothers' direction. "Maybe, maybe not."

"It _will_ be one," the other said flatly. "The woman has lost too much blood. Unless she treated immediately by a trained medic she will die."

Aines' heart sank. He knew the Arkanian was speaking the truth, or part of it, but he was determined not to show how much he realized. "You will understand if we don't believe you... seeing as it was you who injured her."

Zkaqul smiled carelessly. "Look at her for yourselves. Try to staunch the blood. I will not stop you."

"_Ras, do what he says_."

"_What? Why me?_"

"_Because you were in my medic training division._" Aine switched back to public as Ras knelt by their teacher. "I find it hard to accept that you would try to kill our sergeant and then say we can save her." Zkaqul shrugged.

"She is nothing. Dead or alive she doesn't really _matter_ very much." He held Aines' gaze. "Unlike you."

_A trap. And we walked right into it._ "You've got your priorities wrong, _aruetii_. We are the same rank, and clones are worth less than normals."

"Only to the Republic... I beg your pardon, the _Empire_. To _us_ you are worth more than one touchy maverick from an extinct people."

"_Shit, there're_ more _of them?_" Zip whispered.

"_Shut up." _He probed further. "Us?"

"_Us_. Did you think we simply melted into the background while the Empire consolidated its power these last six months? It is simply a newer form of the Republic, with the same corruption and faults."

"_Seppies?_"

"_I told you to shut up._"

Crash spoke. "You had your chance on Stronghold, seppie. It's too late for you now. You can't dodge slugs forever."

"I don't have to." He smiled his maddening smile again. "I already have what I need."

"_What?_" Zip and Crash chorused together.

"_Shut _up _you_ di'kuts."

Zkaqul watched them as if understanding the private conversation. "I have the Force. It's all I will need here tonight."

"Personally I'd put my trust in a good blaster," said Zip laconically.

"That is because you are trained to kill," Zkaqul said coolly, "whereas I was trained to _heal_."

Aine said nothing, but glanced deliberately at Reuma, still curled in her injured position.

"A necessary action. We were trained for _that_ as well." He looked around at them, still silent and clenching blasters. "It was necessity that made me leave the Jedi. They were weak and corrupted by the Republic, its leaders controlled from the Chancellors office. It is necessity now that makes me talk to you. No-one need die tonight, if you only see sense."

Crash fingered his Verp. "I can think of other ways to go about tonight's work."

"Then shoot. The action will hurt _you_ more than it will _me_."

They looked at each other, puzzled. "Say what you mean," said Aine bluntly.

"Your sergeant is dieing. There is no-one here who can help her." He paused. "No-one but me."

"Oh and _that's_ a lot of fucking help..." Zip realised he was still on a public channel and swore again. "Sorry sarge."

"Quite understandable," Zkaqul forgave him. "You asked me to say what I meant. What I mean is- I can save her life, if you give me what I want."

"Like what? Keys to Palpatines' office?" Climber asked sarcastically. "An assassination attempt on Vader? Free merc work for you and your seppie buddies?"

"No." He looked directly at Aine and pointed. "Him."

There was an instant uproar. "No fucking _way_," shouted Crash.

"Well, one of the three survivors anyway," the Arkanian amended. "It's straightforward enough. We need one of you to create the virus necessary to destroy the armies of the Empire. You need your Mandalorian sergeant. I will take both, heal her and give her back. One of you will stay behind to complete the deal. Simple."

"It would _also_ be simple to frag your butt into the Shadowlands," snarled Climber.

Of course. But you would lose your leader."

"Or one of out brothers," said Aine.

"Yes."

"Either way," Aine realised, "we lose."

"Either way."

"_Ras, can sarge hold out?_" Aine asked privately.

"_Oh c'mon _ner vod, _you can't believe that bullshit..._"

"_I didn't ask you, Climber. Ras?_"

The clone didn't sound happy. "_I don't know, sir. She isn't looking good_."

"_Give me figures, _burc'ya. _What are her chances?_"

A deep breath. "_I'd give her 40/60 chances of living at the moment. The longer this goes on the worse the odds get._"

"_Thank you, Ras. That's all I needed to know._" He started to take off his helmet.

"_Aine, don't be stu..."_ As it broke free of its clasps, the voice of Crash was cut off. Zkaqul watched him sympathetically.

"I see you've reached an agreement."

"Like _fuck_ we have!" Crash tore off his own helmet angrily, turning to his squad sergeant. "You can't just go and play the hero on us!"

Aine shook his head. "I have to."

"No you don't." It was Zip, also taking off his helmet. "I'll go. I'm worth less."

"They'll need your ordnance skills."

"We need _your_ leadership skills!"

"You'll have sarge. That's what this is about, isn't it?" He carefully shut them both out, turning to Zkaqul. "We leave now."

"Of course."

"You stabilise her first. I'll give _this_ up," he hoisted his blaster, "when she's safe. After that it doesn't matter."

"She will need extensive treatment."

"Easy. I have more than one weapon." He spun on his heel, elbowing aside Ras to get to the cause of the fuss, picking her up gently. His face was shadowed as he spoke again. "I keep _those_ until she is returned here."

"I understand." The Arkanian walked over quietly, leaning over the battered body in Aines' arms. "If you want to say goodbye, I would do it now."

Aine nodded silently, gently putting Reuma down and walking to his squad. They looked shell-shocked.

"Sarge, you don't have to do this..."

"You can't believe what he says; he'll probably just let her die anyway..."

"We can figure something _else_ out!"

"Like what?" Aine challenged the speaker. "You got any better ideas?"

Zip held his gaze for a moment, before dropping it. He didn't. No-one did. They all looked dazed, as the realisation finally sunk in.

There _was_ no other way.

As Aine had said, either way they would lose. They just had to pick what they lost.

Climber cleared his throat. "I still think-"

What he thought would never be found out, because just then there was a choking sound, almost like a nuna caught in a snare. Fearing the worst they whirled around.

Reuma was sitting, hand tucked almost companionably into Zkaquls' throat. He clutched at it, labouring to breathe. The obstruction was apparent at once.

A one-edged, blue crystal knife.

"Oh sarge," Aine murmured softly. "Oh no."

The Arkanian fought to rise, grasping at the lightsaber handle tucked in his belt. Then he fell, and his struggles started to weaken. His killer slumped back as they ran over.

When they reached her she was smiling.


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"How is she?"

Ras looked up. Behind him one of the designated sickbay huts stood silhouetted against the dawning sun, each splinter outlined in grey light. It had been a long night, broken by a com call only three minutes earlier.

"Stable."

"_Dead_ is stable," snapped Climber irritably. The lack of sleep hadn't made any of them sweeter. "Is she _all right_?"

"She's alive," Ras said wearily. "It was more than we could have hoped for."

"Will she stay that way?" asked Crash.

"If we're lucky." Ras stood up and yawned. "What was the message on the _Blood Star_ about?"

"It was from Arkania," said Climber.

Ras' mouth shut. "And?"

"It's done. They've finished. We can get treated."

"When we have money," said Crash cynically.

"Sarge gave us her account details."

Zip snorted. "_You_ want to leave her?"

Climber shut up. None of them had been further from the hut than the end of the village since they had got back, unless their trip to the _Blood Star_ for supplies was taken into account.

"_Someone_ has to go," said Crash, "The Arkanians won't wait for long so near to Coruscant, and we need better med supplies for sarge."

"Sure, any volunteers for the suicide run?" said Zip sarcastically. "No no, don't all step forward at once..."

"Shut up."

"He's got a point," said Ras. "Any ship on its own right now is a target. Especially us."

"Two Z-95s -"

"- would be even more so. You'd need at least a full squad with all the patrols around the Core."

"Yeah," put in Zip, "If we didn't happen to have our captain in a Wookie medcentre."

"Couldn't you and Ras just take the _Blood Star_?" Crash asked Climber. The other shook his head.

"It's only got one gun. That's why we needed the Headhunters in the first place."

"You could run away."

"In the Core? Where to?"

Aine spoke for the first time. "He's right. We should all go."

"I will _not_." Crash appeared angry, his expression mirrored by Climber. "We can't leave sarge behind with these furballs by herself!"

"I said we _should_, not we will." He looked around. "Most of us can go, but one can stay behind- just in case."

"That still leaves us short one pilot and gunner," objected Climber.

"There's a couple of Wooks that have wanted to fly with us for a while."

"We guessed," said Zip. "Only we weren't sure what they were saying under the howls."

"All they need to do is shoot. Chances are you can dodge the patrols. This is just in case."

Climber gave him a beady look. "I suppose _you_ want to be the one that stays."

"Yes," said Aine calmly.

Crash made an angry noise. "Like hell you are. You'll probably try and commit suicide again."

"Apart from Ras I'm the only trained medic, and he _has_ to go," said Aine. "How good would _you_ be if sarge goes critical, Crash?"

Zip barked out a laugh. "I hate to say this, but he might have a point. You aren't good at fixing people, _ner vod_._ Breaking_ them, maybe."

"Shut up." Crash glared at Aine. His brother gazed back coolly.

"Get in those ships. That's an order."

"Who died and made you leader?" Crash snapped.

There was a nasty pause.

Zip cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should just grab those furballs and fly, eh?"

Crash nodded, looking abnormally pale. "Right. Fly, fight and get back."

"As fast as possible."

"Agreed."

Climber coughed. "I'll fire up the engines. One of those Wooks can gun."

"I'll pick the better flyer for yours," said Crash, looking at Aine. "Who gets the droid?"

Aine almost smiled. "I expect it will want to stay on the ship, as ever."

"Pity." They hand-clasped in a parting gesture. "Keep her alive, brother."

"Don't worry." His gaze went distant. "I'll do my best."

They parted, making for their separate ships. Climber went looking for the eager Wookies, and Aine went back inside to check on his patient. Minutes passed.

Outside, just as the sun rose over the horizon, he heard the hum of starships lifting into the pristine sky.

XXXXXXXX

Aine was not the only one who watched the ships take off.

In the forests of Kashyyyk another saw the trails of ions streak across the backdrop of clouds, until they were lost in the distance and the sun, before he turned his attention back to the village.

The clone was coming along nicely. It would be time soon.

The watcher dropped from his position and went to report to his master.


End file.
